Conspiracy Of The Mist
Neon light paints the lofty night.
Romance crystallizes the murmuring breeze.
November shower arrives on the shores and
whispers on the ears of unholy graffitis.
Echoes of rhythmic clubs and million ambitions
crawl the tall ceilings of cornucopia.
Some dreams trickle through an absurd hole.
Mist of voluptuous bay conspires atrocities on
weary eyes, hungry lips and desperate youth.
Money cannot vanquish the banality of filth
and light dies on the cracks of bravado.
Babel often is an undiagnosed pain,
but the city moves on as if everyday.